Werewolves, as it happens, are somewhat prone to miscarriages, and to multiple births. No one is entirely sure why. In part because they’re mostly a secret society, and not prone to letting doctors and scientists poke and prod at them. There are some experts within the community, of course. Sympathy is a doctor and also a magical healer by trade, and so is Lensa, and Olwyn herself knows a good deal of first aid and has taken some online medical courses. But their facilities are pretty limited, and without exposure - which carry its own host of dangers and likely destruction - there’s only so much they can do.

 Still, when Olwyn finds out that she’s pregnant, they celebrate. With sparkling apple juice, and friends who pretend that they’re getting drunk on it anyway, and an impromptu sort-of-baby-shower that features a lot of unsolicited (but mostly fun) advice, and a whole lot of speculation. Marassal, eager soul that he is, is the first one to turn up with baby gifts - three sets of adorable footie pyjamas, in different patterns, all soft and small enough for a newborn. But he isn’t the only one to turn up at the apartment complex. Especially considering most of the pack lives there. In the span of the first month, they are given baby booties and blankets, toys and supply kits, and Beauty and Sym even come by to help paint the nursery room.

 And then…

 Well.

 Olwyn wakes up bleeding in the night. Trying not to panic, but somehow they both just know what’s happened even before Kel carries her out to the car, and gets her to the clinic.

 She tries to be objective about it. And, mostly, she finds that she can succeed. There are so many ways in which the process can go wrong. So many factors outside of their control. She tries to think of it as a false start, for her own sake, but Olwyn takes it harder. Blames herself, even when she knows that she shouldn’t - even when she tries to act like she doesn’t. Kel can see it, can hear it in the way she cries and struggles with it, and burns the bedsheets she bled on, and can’t go into the nursery for the first few days afterwards.

 Kel holds her, and tries to offer comfort. But sometimes there’s nothing for it, except to be there, and to share the grief.

 Even that is subject to Olwyn’s capacity for guilt, though.

 “I know it doesn’t… that I’m, I’m focusing too much on…” she tries to offer, one evening. After another night of crying, and Kel getting them both up and making them tea. Her wife’s hands curl around her favourite mug, soaking in the warmth. But she doesn’t sip it. Just sits and stares at the cracks in the old tabletop.

 Kel reaches over and steals one of her hands from the mug. Threading their fingers together.

 “It matters,” she says. “You’re allowed to focus on it, Vhenan.”

 Olwyn closes her eyes, and lets out a long breath.

 “You don’t,” she says.

 That stings.

 “Of course I do,” Kel replies, unable to hide it. But Olwyn shakes her head, then, in wordless apology.

 “No, not like that. Not like you don’t care. I just mean… you’re not fixating on…”

 Ah.

 Well, that’s true, too. She can admit.

 “It’s easier for me, on that front,” she says. “It happened to both of us, in a way, but in a more physical sense it happened to you. I was on the outside. So, I can be the one who looks at the practical things right now. And you can take your time. It’s alright, love, it really is.”

 Olwyn closes her eyes, and lets out a long breath.

 “You want to try again,” she says, with certainty.

 Kel doesn’t deny it.

 But…

 “There are a lot of ways to have children,” she says. “I’m good with all of them, to be honest. And I’m not in a hurry. If it doesn’t happen, then it doesn’t happen. Life’s still good. I’m not going anywhere, Olwyn. Even if you don’t want to try again - then we won’t, and we’ll live.”

 That gets her a surprised look. Which might sting a little too, except that Kel knows how hard it is to get over the idea that the people you love will leave you. That at the first sign of trouble or failure, the first ounce of suffering, they’ll decide you’re not worth it anymore, and then just cut themselves free. Olwyn’s fingers tighten around her own. She tugs, a little, and after a moment Kel goes. Standing up from her chair, and settling in front of her wife’s. She wraps her arms around her, and sinks into a long, slow kiss. The full moon is a few nights away, and usually when it is things start heating up between them. But not this month. This month everything is slow and steady, soft and careful. The both of them handling one another with a keen awareness for the fragility of everything.

 “It’s the curse,” Olwyn murmurs, before closing her own arms more tightly around her.

 Kel sighs, and squeezes her back.

 “Maybe. Or maybe this is just a bad thing that happens to a lot of people, for no good reason,” she counters. “Either way, it’s not your fault.”

 And that is the mantra for the next while, too. Not your fault.

 Sometimes Kel wonders if it’s hers, instead. Something she did or didn’t do. Something she could have noticed. Maybe she should have argued more, when Olwyn offered to be the one to carry their child. Maybe that would have been wiser or more practical. But at the time, her wife’s enthusiasm had been infectious, and Kel wasn’t really all that enamored with the concept of pregnancy.

 She thinks on it more, though. Through the full moon and the end of the month, through the pack meetings, and into the next, and so on. Gradually, things begin to regain their equilibrium. They sort of have to, she supposes - life doesn’t actually pause for grief or trauma, and both of them are trying to get back to it anyway. Their love life starts to heat up again. On their anniversary, Kel scoops her wife up into her arms, and carries her much more happily. Carting her off to bed after a long and romantic dinner; taking her time to pull off Olwyn’s jewellery, and free her hair from the fancy braids she wove it into.

 And Olwyn slides her hands up Kel’s dress, and hums as she unhooks her bra, and cups her breasts. The full moon is on its way again, and it shows in the way Olwyn shivers more at her touch. Pressing in closer, nipping with her kisses, and letting off a few soft growls of frustration whenever their clothing impedes them. Kel teases her, drawing it out. She pins her to the bed, and trails her lips down the sensitive side of her neck. Lets her touch linger at Olwyn’s hips, and knees, and leaves her in her dress even as she gets a thigh between her legs, and watches her breasts escape the flimsy straps of her top.

 “You look good enough to eat,” she declares.

 Olwyn huffs, and then twists her position enough that she can wrap her legs around Kel, and squeeze her close.

 “Then get a move on, before I flip us over and take care of this myself,” she replies, tauntingly.

 Kel laughs.

 “My pleasure.”

 She migrates her way down with kisses, even so. Letting Olwyn’s breasts stay in her bra, because it’s a pretty one and they look good in it. She pauses at her navel, and dips her tongue into it, first. Before she finishes unzipping the dress, and lets go of Olwyn enough so that she can pull it away. Then Kel takes a moment to admire her matching set of panties. Blue and lace and lovely next to the soft spray of freckles on Olwyn’s thighs. Those, of course, need kissing, which she indulges in, until Olwyn’s hips are twisting and her fingers and pressing very pointedly against the skin behind her ears. Hurry up, the gestures say.

 Kel toys with the band of Olwyn’s panties, but in the end, her first move is to press her mouth to them, and leave them on as she drags her tongue along the smooth center of the fabric.

 Already damp, and the scent of arousal is very strong.

 “Delicious,” she hums.

 Olwyn pinches one of her ears. The moonlight spills into the bedroom, but the heat that’s building up inside of her feels too fiery for it. It looks good on the two of them, though. Landing gently on Olwyn’s curves, and catching on the shine of her lips as she opens her mouth. But whatever she had been planning on saying turns into a soft moan, as Kel presses her legs a bit further apart, and then sets upon the task of devouring her through her panties. Dragging her tongue in long, deep strokes, until the fabric is thoroughly askew, and she can’t resist the tantalizing offer of the heat beneath it.

 Then she pushes the fabric aside, and indulges her fingers and her tongue. Pausing only to look up and enjoy the view, to watch as Olwyn struggles her way out of her bra and cups her own breasts, and bites her lip, and rocks her hips into her licks and touches. Unhesitating in a way that makes something in Kel’s chest ease. An unspoken apprehension, built up from months of carefulness, that finally loosens its jaws.

 She even feels inspired enough to go and retrieve her favourite strap-on, leaving Olwyn perilously close to her edge as she casts her own dress aside, and shimmies her way into it.

 “This alright?” she checks.

 Olwyn looks at her, her gaze all fervent in desire, and then reaches over to grab the belt of her strap-on, and tug her closer.

 “Yes,” she says, emphatically. Before she flushes even more, at her own boldness, and bites her lip again.

 It makes Kel laugh with relief, and steal a kiss from her lips. Pressing close enough to feel Olwyn’s breasts against her own, to feel her pulse hammering, and breathe in the send of her. Then she lines them up, and her wife grips her biceps tight, and lets out a low moan at the inward press of the strap-on.

 This particular toy isn’t two-way, but it still presses pleasantly on Kel’s own parts at the briefest bit of pressure. It means that she has to make fairly deep strokes to get much stimulus on her own end, though, and she takes it careful at first. At least until Olwyn reaches down to her ass and grips her tighter, pulling her in abruptly enough that the both cry out at the sensations. Her nerves tingle and Olwyn’s eyes are yellow-bright in the moonlight, her teeth a little sharper than usual, the whole of her spread out in an invitation that hedges as close to a demand as she ever gets.

 Kel moves faster, then. Picking up the pace and giving in to temptation again, until she’s lifted Olwyn’s hips, and the bed is rocking in time with her thrusts. Each inward stroke tantalizes and teases her further. Drawing her perilously close to her own finish, by the time Olwyn arches and then stiffens in a very distinctive way.

 She has to stop herself from carrying on, then. Mindful of the sensitivity of the aftermath. He chest heaves with her own breaths, but while she thinks Olwyn is still coming down from her own heights, her wife pulls her down for another kiss, and then very pointedly does roll them over. Closing one hand over the strap-on, still slick from being inside of her, and pressing it down, before she undoes the belt. And then she takes it off of Kel, and turns it in her grasp. Sending her a questioning look, as she lines it up with Kel’s own entrance.

 “My turn?” she suggests. Her voice sounds shaky, and the light in her eyes is bright enough that if Kel didn’t know any better, she’d think it was the full moon.

 She stretches her arms up, and spreads her legs wider in invitation.

 “If you want-”

 Her acceptance barely gets any further before her breath catches, then. As Olwyn presses her thumb to her clit, and starts to work the slick toy into her own entrance. She doesn’t put it on, not this time. Instead she just uses it by hand, making shallow strokes and rubbing firm circles against her, mindful enough of her nails that she switches to her knuckle after a moment, but this evening she doesn’t need to take them off, as Kel is close enough already. A few more strokes and she comes, calling for Olwyn.

 Who answers it by climbing back up onto the bed. Her limbs a bit shaky, her grip possessive as she wraps her arms around Kel. But Kel can’t claim the high ground on that, as she clutches her back just as fervently - and with no moonlight to blame for the covetous note in her murmured affections.

 All in all, a pretty normal anniversary for them.

 A few nights later, she wakes up with Olwyn’s head on her chest. Fingers idly tracing patterns over the bedspread. When Kel starts carding her own through her wife’s hair, she glances up at her.

 “Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks.

 “Maybe. S’alright,” Kel replies, because it is, and she likes the way Olwyn smells when she’s halfway asleep. Likes the way she feels when she’s relaxed and easy against her. She presses a kiss to the top of her head - and mostly gets hair, but who’s counting - and eases into the rhythm of both of their breaths. Almost slipping away again, before Olwyn speaks.

 “I want to try again,” she says.

 Kel’s brain takes a minute to catch up with her, and she finds herself murmuring in reflexive agreement - of course, dear, if you want to - before the real meaning hits her. It wakes her up more, and has her sitting up against the pillows. Olwyn shifts so she’s beside her, and they can look at one another.

 “You’re sure?” Kel asks. Because, whilst Olwyn is not a doormat, she is an exceedingly generous person. And generous people need to be given the space to not be, when it’s needed.

 There’s no furrow to Olwyn’s brow, however. Just a steady - and very awake - sort of contemplation in her gaze.

 “I do,” she affirms. “But I… I’m not sure if… well. If it went wrong again, I don’t think know if I’d be able to try even more. Maybe, but… I’m just, I know I want to. I think I knew I would want to even before, but I just couldn’t let myself. It felt too much like I was just casting aside…”

 She trails off.

 Kel gets it, though. She brushes some strands away from Olwyn’s face, and then cups her cheeks in her hands, before pulling her close again.

 “We’ll talk specifics in the morning. It’ll be okay,” she promises.

 They don’t decide it that night, or even the next few days. But that’s the start of how Kel ends up on the ‘receiving’ end of the ritual, this time. An old elven one, which is neither as sexy as one might hope, nor as invasive as one might fear. It takes them a few tries, another six months in fact, but just when they’re starting to consider that the process might not actually work on Kel for some reason, she takes one of her scheduled tests and sees the blue lines come back positive.

 It fills her with more feelings than she can readily describe. Trepidation not the least among them - and that makes her wonder if they shouldn’t have maybe looked at other options more thoroughly. Though most, of course, were further complicated by the whole ‘werewolf’ thing. Adoption was especially tricky when you knew that any kid you took in was essentially being brought into that, on top of everything else.

 Though, of course, a baby being born into it probably isn’t much better.

 But then she takes a few breaths, and lingers in the bathroom for several minutes. Reminding herself that they’ve been over that. And that there really isn’t much problem with the whole werewolf thing.

 It’s been a while since surreal turn of her life has caught her off-guard. But it strikes her again, as she stares at the positive test. She was just… normal. All her life, just a normal elf. And now she’s married to a werewolf, and it turns out magic is more than she ever might have imagined. And she’s in love and she’s going to have to go on maternity leave and there is a person growing inside of her, which was dizzying enough when… when it was Olwyn. But there’s an added layer of strangeness to the experience, when it’s her own body that’s going to grow and change and… and hopefully accommodate what’s going on inside.

 Creators, she hopes it doesn’t… doesn’t go wrong.

 She’s not the praying type. But she maybe manages a few, just on the off-chance anyone is listening, before she leaves the bathroom. Olwyn knows when she’s testing. They have an agreement that she’s not supposed to wait, because when she sits and waits she gets worked up and over-thinks everything and worries if it takes too long. So she’s on the couch, in front of their television set, pretending that she’s watching House Hunters and not the clock next to it.

 But there’s really nothing for the look in her eyes, when she turns and stares at Kel, and the test in hand.

 Normally Kel just throws them out, when they’re negatives. Comes back out empty-handed.

 This one, she holds up.

 What should she say? ‘Surprise’ doesn’t really seem accurate or appropriate, and ‘congratulations’ seems weird when they’re both going to be celebrating the news.

 “It, um… it took,” she says, and then almost smacks herself in the forehead, because what the hell, that’s the probably the least romantic or enthusiastic or happy way to deliver the news. Which is, indeed, happy news.

 But Olwyn doesn’t seem terrible bothered, as her eyes go wide, and she shoots up from the couch like a rocket.

 “Really?!” she exclaims.

 Kel nods, rapidly, a few times. And then Olwyn reminds her that werewolves are fast, as she’s barely opened her mouth to attempt some slightly less awkward commentary before there are arms around her. Squeezing her tight - though only on the backs of her shoulders, she notes - as Olwyn makes a sound of incoherent joy, and then spins them both around.

 “It worked!” she exclaims. “It worked, it worked!”

 A laugh, equal parts delighted and nervous, bubbles out of Kel.

 “According to the test, anyway,” she says.

 “We have to go to the clinic,” Olwyn decides, immediately.

 And even though Kel isn’t quite as convinced that an immediate visit is called for, she gives in. Sym is on duty, and he takes the time to do a basic check-up, as well as pretty much just confirming what the test told her. It’s early days, yet, for anything more extensive. At Olwyn’s behest he does an ultrasound, too, but even that can only just confirm that there’s a speck of something in there, and not really give much more information either way.

 They do things differently this time, though. Telling everyone right away had also meant that everyone knew when they’d lost their first attempt, too, and that had stung throughout the community. And Kel’s pretty sure it had made Olwyn feel even worse in the end, too. Like she’s somehow let people down, in addition to losing the pregnancy.

 So this time, they don’t have to debate much to agree that they’re going to take a different approach. They keep it just between the two of them, and Sympathy, and Lensa, for the start. Kel goes into the nursery to take stock of what all they have again, though. And Olwyn ventures in too, though they don’t really talk about it. She runs her hand across the side of the crib, and dusts everything, and gets new curtains for the windows.

 The nursery looks out over the small, square park behind the housing block; and staring straight out gives a view of the forests, in the distance, rather than the city skyscrapers.

 If Kel starts acquiring a few more charms for good fortune and health, and happens to leave them on the nursery windowsill, Olwyn doesn’t bring it up, either.

 The first trimester is mostly marked by a lot of nausea. Pregnancy is uncomfortable, Kel finds. She throws up a lot more, and becomes infinitely more neurotic about her food. And not even in the ‘weird cravings’ sense that she’s expected - though she does find herself suddenly wanting to eat things like liver and curry and blackberries, that she’d never been entirely keen on before. Those aren’t weird foods, though, and the biggest shift is that she starts getting more particular about what she has with what. Suddenly fruit with cereal is unappealing - it has to be fruit or cereal. And meat she just wants on its own as often as not, too. Her normal breakfast-lunch-dinner habits break down into something more like six smaller meals a day,

 She throws up in the evenings pretty often, too, though not with enough regularity to cause concern.

 Concern doesn’t really make itself known until she goes in for her first proper ultrasound, and a check-up that has been slightly bumped up because Olwyn is convinced that she’s vomiting more than she should be, and is worried about preeclampsia. The check of her blood pressure doesn’t turn up any major problems, though - which is a relief.

 But the ultrasound provides another explanation for Kel’s increased quality time with the porcelain throne.

 “Lupine fertility strikes again,” Lensa declares, as she moves the wand around Kel’s stomach, and gestures to the blurry and - to Kel, anyway - undecipherable shapes on it. She’s too busy trying to parse what’s on the screen to really register the comment’s implications, at first. Olwyn is quicker on the uptake, and squeezes Kel’s hand tightly as her lips part a little in surprised.

 “Two?” she says.

 Wait, two what?

 And then Kel remembers. Werewolves are known for complicated pregnancies, and for multiple births.

 “Twins?” she asks, as her eyes go wide.

 Lensa grins at them.

 “At least,” she declares. “It could be triplets, it’s a little early to be completely sure. But it’s definitely more than one.”

 Kel blinks.

 She feels weirdly faint, for a few moments.

 It’s strange, she supposes, because obviously on some level she knew it was a possibility. But they’d had to work so hard to get pregnant - Olwyn’s pregnancy hadn’t taken in a hurry, either, and while she knows there are people who’ve gone through a lot more, it still feels like it took a monument combination of luck and effort to get here. And now somehow it’s not even just one little baby, it’s two. Two people, growing inside of her. Depending entirely upon her actions to make it to birth, and then depending on her and Olwyn to survive once they’re here.

 Two.

 At least.

 “Kel?” Olwyn asks her, as she blinks some more. She moves closer, obviously concerned, and brushes a few fingers across her forehead. “Are you okay?”

 She considers that. Olwyn’s wanted kids and Kel has too, and as big as this is… well…

 “We got a bargain,” she finally says. “Two kids for one pregnancy. What a steal!”

 Olwyn lets out a breath, and Lensa snorts at her. Kel leans her head against her wife’s, and stares at the weird little screen blobs.

 She can do this.